The Duel Aleksandr Kuprin (best inspirational books .txt) š
- Author: Aleksandr Kuprin
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Shortly after the suicide in question, a similar crisis occurred among the officers. Osadchi, as might be expected, became the instigator and high-priest of the orgies. In the course of several days he organized in the mess, games of hazard more recklessly than ever, during which fearful quantities of spirit were consumed. Strangely enough, this wild beast in human form soon managed to entice pretty nearly all the officers of his regiment into a whirl of mad dissipations. And during all these carousals Osadchi, with unparalleled cynicism, insolence, and heartlessness, tried to provoke expressions of disapproval and opposition, by invoking all the powers of the netherworld to insult the name and memory of the unhappy man who had taken his own life.
It was about 6 p.m., Romashov was sitting at his window with his legs resting on the windowsill, and whistling softly a waltz out of Faust. The sparrows and magpies were making a noise and laughing at each other in the garden. It was not yet evening, but the shadows beneath the trees grew longer and fainter.
Suddenly a powerful voice was heard outside singing, not without a certain spirit, but out of tuneā ā
āThe chargers are champing, snorting, and neighing.
The foam-covered bridle still holds them in sway.ā
Immediately afterwards the door was flung wide open, and ViƤtkin rolled into Romashovās room with a loud peal of laughter. Although it was all he could do to stand on his legs, he kept on singingā ā
āMatrons and maidens with sorrowful glances
Watch till their hero is lost to their sight.ā
ViƤtkin was still completely intoxicated from the libations of the preceding day, and his eyelids were red and swollen from a night without sleep. His hat was half off his head, and his long, waxed moustache hung down like the tusks of a walrus.
āR-romuald, Syriaās holy hermit, come, let me kiss you!ā he roared in a way that echoed through the whole house. āHow long do you intend to sit brooding here? Come, let us go. Thereās wine and play and jolly fellows down there. Come!ā
ViƤtkin gave Romashov a sounding kiss and rubbed his face with his wet moustache.
āWell, well, that will do, Pavel Pavlich. Is that the way to go on?ā Romashov tried to defend himself against ViƤtkinās repeated caresses, but in vain.
āHold out your hand, my friend. Osadchi is kicking up a row down there, so thereās not a pane of glass unbroken. Romashevich, I love you. Come here and let me give you a real Russian kiss, right on the mouthā ādo you hear?ā
ViƤtkin with his swollen face, glassy eyes, and stinking breath was unspeakably forbidding to Romashov, but, as usual, the latter could not ward off such caresses, to which he now responded by a sickly and submissive smile.
āWait and you shall hear why I came,ā shrieked ViƤtkin, hiccupping and stumbling about the room. āSomething important, you may well believe. Bobetinski was cleaned out by me to his last copeck. Then he wanted, of course, to give an I.O.U. āMuch obliged, dear boy, but that cock wonāt fight. But perhaps you have something left to pledge.ā Then he drew out his revolverā āhere it is, by the way.ā ViƤtkin drew from his breeches pocket, which followed, turned inside out, a choice little, well-constructed revolver protected by a chamois-leather case. āAs you see, dear boy, the Mervin type. āWell,ā I said to him, āhow much will you venture on thatā ātwentyā ātenā āfifteen?ā And can you imagine such a curmudgeon? The first time only a rouble, on the ācolour,ā of course. But all the sameā āhey, presto! slap-bang! After five raisings the revolver was mine and the cartridges too. And now you shall have it, Romashevich, as a keepsake of our old friendship. Some day you will always think of me thus: āViƤtkin was always a brave and generous officer.ā But what are you doing? Are you writing verses?ā
āWell, well, what have you brought this for, Pavel Pavlich? Put it away.ā
āAll right. Perhaps you think itās no good? I could kill an elephant with it. Will experiment with it at once. Whereās that slave of yours? He shall get us a target on the spot. Wait a second. HainĆ”n!ā āslave!ā āsquire-at-arms!ā āhi!ā
ViƤtkin rolled out of the door and then into HainĆ”nās closet, where for several minutes he was heard kicking up a row. Suddenly he returned in triumph with Pushkinās bust under his arm.
āWell I never, Pavel Pavlich! Donāt make a fool of yourself. Let that alone.ā But there was not sufficient force in Romashovās objections, and ViƤtkin went on as he pleased.
āRubbish! You chatter like a starling. Now weāll put this on the tabouret. Stand up, you ass. Iāll teach you, by Jove!ā
With these adjurations to poor Pushkin, ViƤtkin returned to Romashov, took his stand at the windowsill, and cocked his revolver. As he was not sober, he swung the muzzle of the weapon here and there, and Romashov expected every second that one of them would be killed.
The distance was about five paces. ViƤtkin was long in taking aim, during which the muzzle described some dangerous curves in the air. At last the shot rang out, and in Pushkinās right cheek appeared a big black, irregular hole. Romashov was for some moments deafened by the report.
āWell aimed!ā shrieked ViƤtkin, rejoicing. āHereās your revolver, and donāt forget my friendship. Hurry on now with your uniform jacket and come with us to the mess. Long live the glorious Russian Army!ā
āPavel Pavlich, I really cannot today,ā protested Romashov weakly.
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